


Everything's an Illusion

by aavonlea



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dreams, F/F, Fluff, Hallucinations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2416103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aavonlea/pseuds/aavonlea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr request. In which Skye’s imagination is acting up since the person she cares about most left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything's an Illusion

At first she knew that what she was seeing wasn’t actually really. She wasn’t crazy. She really could distinguish between reality and the girl in front of her. At first anyway. That knowledge, that awareness that she was talking to a dream slipped away from her before very long. Because this dream was nice. It was like closing your eyes, trying to get back to that sweet land you were imagining in your sleep after you woke up and cut it off.

She wanted to go back to sleep, so she let herself forget what was really real.

But seriously, in the beginning it was obvious that it was just an illusion. It was a couple days after Jemma left, and during that time Skye was still prone to laying on tables when she should’ve been working, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about how much she missed the biochemist. She was angry that Jemma would leave, but she was mostly just sad about the whole deal. Her mind wandered from the other girl’s unreadable frown as she packed her bags, to the way Skye and Jemma had spent every night for the past two weeks having movie nights in each other’s rooms, to the feel of Jemma’s fingers intertwined in her own as Jemma attempted to keep tears out of her eyes while trying to talk about anything other than how poor Fitz’s mental state was. Skye then let her mind wander to the other girl’s laughing voice, a product of Skye trying to lighten the mood with her own brand of humor -- mostly just a lot of really bad puns.

A voice drifted through her meandering thoughts, startlingly serene and objectively calming. “You know you have work to be doing, don’t you?” she said.

Skye’s head turned to where the voice sounded, and she sat up on the table. “What are you doing here?” Skye asked, not believing who was standing in front of her.

Jemma Simmons, in her everyday buttondown, sweater, and dress pants, her hair tied back. She looked as if she’d just come down from the lab, as if she’d never left.

Skye frowned and repeated her question. “What are you doing here, Jemma?”

Jemma stepped over to the table, smiling at her and slipping her hand inside Skye’s. Skye couldn’t feel it, though.

“You’re not really here,” Skye said with a short sigh.

Jemma’s smile only grew, sympathetic and kind. “No, love. I’m not.”

Skye, grasping at air, tightened her hold over this dream Jemma’s fingers. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. Her voice cracked slightly. “I miss you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Coming home from a mission with a sprained wrist was one of those little inconveniences that Skye didn’t like to make a habit of, but it was the first injury she’d gotten since the minor gash on her side from a few weeks ago, courtesy of a stray knife blade. Jemma had admonished her incessantly about that one, and sure enough Dream Jemma chided her for all hours later that night. Skye said nothing, staring at her and trying to remind herself that she wasn’t crazy.

“Well, don’t you have anything to say?” Dream Jemma said when she realized Skye wasn’t actually paying attention to her words.

“I don’t really like to talk to myself,” Skye replied, letting a bite of accusation into her words. What was the point in acknowledging that Dream Jemma was there? “I don’t see why I should.”

“Because it might do you some good,” Dream Jemma said, her voice softening as she sat down on Skye’s mattress beside her. “Skye? Love, are you alright? Really, are you?”

“I can’t think,” Skye whispered, closing her eyes. “I need you here but you’re not. There wasn’t a lot helping me get through the past few weeks since.... And you were one of those things. But you’re not really here and I need you to be here and I just can’t think right now.”

“Oh, Skye,” Dream Jemma said, and Skye felt something grasp her hand. It was warm, and calming, and nice, just like Jemma’s.

Skye opened her eyes to see Dream Jemma looking wistfully at her. Skye melted under it and she hated that. This was cruel, having a figment of her imagination fiddle with her emotions like this, pretending to be someone because that person wasn’t really there. But then, that wasn’t Jemma’s fault.

“I’m sorry this is so hard for you, darling,” the other girl said, and for some reason the word “darling” sent a wave of apprehension throughout Skye. She pushed it back.

“I miss you,” Skye whispered. “I’m mad at you for leaving. I am so fucking mad at you for that. But I miss you so much.”

“I know, love. I know,” Jemma said, giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s time for bed, love. You need your sleep.”

And despite herself, she laid back against her mattress, pulling the covers up against her. She closed her eyes to the feeling of Jemma stroking her hair. It sent another calming rush through her body, causing a small smile.

“Goodnight, Skye. Sleep well. Sleep well,” Jemma whispered.

Maybe, Skye thought, this wasn’t so bad. As Jemma laid down beside her and continued to stroke her hair, Skye forgot what was real and what wasn’t, and all that was left for her to do was enjoy it. So she let the three words she’d never given into before slip out.

“I love you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

One of the nice things about the Playground is that their bedrooms were actual rooms, not tiny spaces the size of a closet like on the Bus. It was nice, because there was room to move, room for Skye to stretch her legs, room for it to feel like an actual room instead of a cubby. And sometimes, that extra room could allow for something special that Skye realized she hadn’t done in so long.

The music that played in the background on her phone was nice, wistful and blissful. Skye could relate to the first few lines, but she wasn’t entirely sure why anymore. It was about someone who missed someone else. Their voice, the way that other person’s skin felt against their own, and that mind-boggling silence that was louder than reason would like to allow. The good kind of silence. Skye agreed with the sentiment.

But there was another part Skye related to even more, that part that was just these two people, dancing together. Dancing in the way Skye and Jemma were dancing right now, so what was there to miss?

“Faith and desire and the swing of your hips,” Skye sang quietly, giving Jemma a spin. The pair of them laughed, a light and carefree sound that reflected the song. Skye pushed back the feeling that something was missing. She had everything right here, everything she needed right now was here dancing with her.

“Skye?” Jemma asked with another light swing of their arms.

“Hmm?”

“How are you feeling?” Jemma said, calm but curious.

“This is like a dream,” Skye replied with a laugh. Jemma’s smile changed, from happy to something unidentifiable.

“Dreams end,” the other girl said, the smile turning sad. Skye couldn’t understand what in the world there was to be sad about, not right now.

“Not this dream,” Skye said firmly. “Not this one. I get to have this one.”

“Darling, that’s not how it works,” Jemma told her.

At that moment the two girls tripped and fell onto Skye’s bed, Jemma toppling on top of Skye. Skye smiled up at Jemma, not believing for a second the words Jemma was trying to press upon her. “You’re wrong,” Skye whispered, the smile never leaving her lips. Jemma did not push the point further.

“Skye, love, I’m not.”

Skye slipped her fingers into the other girl’s, pulling her into her arms as the music in the background came to an end and Skye found it so peaceful.

“Skye, what would you do if I left?” Jemma whispered into her ear.

“I’ll never have to find out. You’d never leave,” Skye replied, ignoring the bite of fear in her gut -- she didn’t understand where those twinges of dread came from.

“I already have,” Jemma said.

Skye pretended she hadn’t heard her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Today the Playground was the most active it had been since Skye and the others had arrived there, which was truly saying something considering there were hardly any people there to cause a commotion. Commotion probably wasn’t even the right word to describe it. A better word might be uproar.

Skye’s eyes kept glancing back and forth between Jemma, who was standing beside her with a dumbstruck expression that probably matched her own, and the rushing tiny clusters of people, searching for a face that might be able to explain why everyone was suddenly rushing about.

“Skye! Where’ve you been, girl?” Trip’s voice sounded from behind her, calm despite the chaos. Skye turned around to see him walking swiftly up to her, eyeing the agents skittering around with an expression that couldn’t have said “Pfft! Rookies!” louder if he’d been carrying a bullhorn.

“What’s going on, Trip?” Skye asked curiously, frowning at the continued movement all around them.

“Yes, what’s happened?” Jemma piped in with a frown of her own.

“I don’t really know, May didn’t get into specifics but something big’s going down. Some kind of big mission bust that has to do with Simmons,” Trip said quickly.

“Wait… but Simmons--” Skye faltered for a moment, the confusion in her head growing rapidly. The damn newbies swarming everywhere weren’t helping her think either. “Simmons? But she’s --”

“Sorry, Skye, I’ve gotta run,” Trip said, walking past her. “Find Coulson, he’ll explain. Looks like Simmons is coming back home!” he called before jogging off towards the Quinn jets.

“But… wait… Jemma?” Skye said, turning to the girl beside her. Trip hadn’t even glanced her way, didn’t greet her or acknowledge that she was there at all. Jemma was smiling brightly as she took hold of Skye’s hand.

“Skye, isn’t this wonderful? I’m coming home! Aren’t you excited?” she asked.

Skye fought off the nagging dread filling the pit of her stomach. Jemma was here, in front of her, just as she had been for weeks. What was this nonsense?

“I’m coming home!” Jemma repeated, her smile growing wider and her eyes blandly excited, a blandness that was so completely not Jemma. It was the hint that Skye needed to make the connection, and suddenly she felt like she’d sunk to the bottom of a deep, freezing lake.

“You were here, though,” Skye said, squeezing the other girl’s hands tightly in hers. They were solid, warm, comforting, like they were supposed to be, like she’d always imagined they’d be. These were Jemma’s hands.

“Oh, Skye…. Love, I never was,” Jemma said, her smile turning sad again, a sympathetic kind of sad that only made Skye squeeze harder.

“You’re not a dream though,” Skye said, more to herself than anything. But then, it had all been to herself, right? “Are you doing this to me again? Again? You can’t be just a dream!”

“Skye--”

“No, this was nice. I liked this. I wanted this,” Skye said, shaking her head, but even as she said it, Dream Jemma’s hands didn’t feel so solid anymore.

“And you can have it again, but this time it will be with the real Jemma,” the figment said. “Jemma’s coming home, Skye. Be excited. She’s going to need it.”

“Skye? What are you waiting there for?!” Coulson’s voice shook her from her thoughts, sharp and determined, a voice she recognized from several moments in the past, and it always signified one thing: something was wrong.

“What is it?” Skye asked him as he walked up to her.

“No one’s told you? It’s Simmons,” he said. “We need to get to her now, she’s in trouble.”

And with that, Skye’s hand let go of the air it had been clinging to, forgetting about the illusion of a girl she’d just been talking to, and the dream faded away.

Back to reality.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a post on Tumblr in which Skye turned out to be imagining her own version of Jemma Simmons in the same way Fitz was.


End file.
